Fortune Favors the Brave
by Crimson Laurel
Summary: Shunned both at school and at home, Melanie and her cat have run away, seeking a new life. On Halloween night, Melanie stumbles upon a mysterious tree with a jack-o-lantern door... self-insert, rated T, no pairings yet
1. The Story of My Life

So, I know that this has been done before, and that some people are getting tired of it, but hey, I thought a self-insert would be a good start. If you don't want to read it, they just invented this really great thing called the "back button." This chapter will be a llittle slow, but we'll get into the movie next chaper! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Nightmare Before Christmas. I do own Melanie, her family, and any other OC's you see.

_Okay, so for all the adolescents out there, you know how you come to an adult with a huge personal issue or problem at school, and their only answer is, "Oh, you're just at _that age_. I completely understand; I had that same problem when I was at that age. Don't worry, it's not as bad as you think, it'll get better soon"? It doesn't matter who you talk to – parents, teachers, neighbors, whatever – you'll get the same answer every time. Well, I'm sure you've already figured this out, but just in case you haven't…_they're all wrong_. Your problems have very little to do with the fact that you're a teenager, your parents did _not _have the same problems that you do, it is _certainly _as bad as you think it is, and it will _not_ sort itself out unless you take dramatic and fearless action. And no one, I repeat, _no one_, understands you. _

* * *

_At least, that's what I'd thought for almost all of my life._

_Most people expect young women (by this, I mean from little kid to high school senior) to be pretty, perky, fashionable, polite, sociable, and otherwise sickeningly perfect. I am none of these things (politeness, admittedly, is a little iffy – I am content in my demeanor so long as the one I am speaking to does not, or has not ever, thought of me as an "abnormal, trouble-making hooligan." Simply that this is not the case ninety-seven percent of the time does not mean I am not well-mannered.) I am dark, cynical, intelligent, and a complete loner. I see no point to fashion, despise overly-perky people, and am, as the popular girls are so eager to remind me, "hideously fat and ugly." While other girls are shopping for shoes, dancing ballet, or gushing over boys, I am reading a book, carving wood, or pondering deep and pertinent questions of the universe, such as why the color pink seems to be so desirable to those born with two X-chromosomes. _

_To put it simply, I am Goth. Well, all right, I'm not a complete Goth – I am able to take joy out of many things in life, and I would sooner join the cheerleading squad than get a piercing, ears or otherwise. My pet is not exotic, venomous, or mean-spirited – she's an intelligent, affectionate Norwegian forest cat named Calista. However, I am a seasoned follower of most other levels of Goth: black eyeliner, wardrobe consisting of mostly black or dark red clothing, a lock of my hair dyed crimson, a love of all things creepy and unusual, and a firm belief in the supernatural. Actually, it was those last two who got me into that whole mess in the first place. But I'm getting ahead of myself; there's plenty of time to tell the whole story._

_My name is Melanie Carter (don't let the name fool you – "Melanie" is actually a Greek name that means black or dark. And my mom wonders how I ended up like this…), and I was fifteen the day I ran away from home, the day my dreams had all been fulfilled, my prayers had all been answered…_

* * *

This particular day began like a lot of others in my life – with a fight with my mom.

You see, my mom and I are like night and day, and it's not too hard to tell who's who. My mom is tall and skinny and has the body of a ballet dancer. She's got a great personality, she's really nice, and she's freakin' _gorgeous_, if you haven't already figured that out. She was homecoming queen in high school, _and _prom queen, too. And me, well…you get the idea. Basically, the only thing we have in common is our long, light-brown hair, and we even don't share that since I dyed part of it. And believe you me, I'm just fine with that. My mom, on the other hand, is decidedly not. She is completely adamant about me being exactly like her, and I mean _exactly_. Of course, I'm about as willing to change my ways as Calista is to take a bath. Another thing; like most perfect girls, my mom is repulsed by all things dark and foreboding, especially my Goth-ness. And naturally, like most Goths, _I _am repulsed by perfect girls like my mom. So, as you can imagine, we're at each others' throats a lot.

This time, it was about my Halloween costume – and of course, waiting until the big day to nag me about getting a new one makes PERFECT sense. Even before my initiation to the Wonderful World of the Dark and Demented, Halloween had always been my favorite holiday, and despite my age, I'm still a hard-core trick-or-treater. Hey, the way I see it, you're never too old to dress up in weird clothes and wander around the neighborhood unsupervised to get free stuff. So anyway, I wanted to be a sorceress this year, and I had an awesome costume: a black tank top, a purple plaid skirt, black pantyhose (although it pained me), combat boots, and this amazing black cloak with these purple dragons sewn in. It cost me my whole year's savings, but it would be totally worth it. I couldn't wait to wear it!

But of course, my mom just _had _to intervene. She barged up into my room (without even knocking, mind you) and surprised me so bad I almost sliced my finger off with my carving knife. But rather than freaking out over my catastrophic near-injury, or even _apologizing_ for ignoring the rules of common courtesy, she starts chewing me out about the costume. Mom doesn't want me to wear "that raggedy old thing," oh no – she wants me to wear the one she made me herself. I was just opening my mouth in order to insist that the cloak wasn't raggedy at all, but brand new, and to inquire why she had made me a costume anyway – I mean, she'd been with me in the store when I bought it, and I'd been talking all week about it, for God's sake – when she whipped out this dress from behind her back, and the voice died in my throat.

I saw pink. Lots and lots of pink. And there were roses all over the dress. _Roses_, for the love of God. I felt a part of me die inside.

When the urge to be violently sick passed, I took a deep breath and said slowly, "Mom…what the hell is _that_?"

"Don't say 'hell', dear," Mom said automatically, and then her face broke into a broad grin. "It's the Halloween costume I made for you! Oh, you'll be such a _darling _little rosebush!"

My jaw dropped. "A _what_?!" Please tell me I misheard her, please let me not end up being…

"A rosebush, Melanie," Mom repeated. "Isn't it fabulous?"

It's official; the cosmos are out to get me, and my little cat, too. No, seriously – I'll bet you my entire college fund that Mom made a costume for Calista, too. Probably to make her look like a rosebud or flower pixie or something equally revolting.

Experience told me that the best way to reason with Mom was to explain my beliefs with slow and simple words. "Mother," I began firmly, putting my half-finished carving on my desk on standing up, "I'm a Goth." Mom visibly winced and nodded weakly. "Goths do not associate themselves with rosebushes, they do not wear clothes that make them look 'darling' or 'fabulous' –" I stepped closer to Mom until our faces were only about six inches apart. " – and they _never_, under _any _circumstances, do they come anywhere _near _the color pink. It's…oh, Mom, it's just not right!"

Mom's grin slowly faded into a look of utter shock. "But…but why not?" she sputtered. "I spent two weeks making this for you! And pink would look so lovely on you! After all, it looks fantastic on me, and we look so much alike…"

I shuddered and sat back down as Mom started in on one of her "oh-how-I-wish-you-were-more-like-me-and-not-a-solitary-Gothic-freak" speeches. I grabbed my carving and my knife and slowly sank into the Zone.

I suppose now would be a good time to talk about my wood carving, as it is a big part of who I am and will show up multiple times later on in the story. You see, my dad's a wood carver, too, and he's been making these amazing carvings since he was a little kid. You wouldn't believe all the stuff he's made: a running horse, an attacking bear, a cereal box, a bunch of flutes, a whole flock of geese, and (his favorite) a life-sized statue of Mom. All of them are really detailed and accurate and, well, _perfect_. When I was a little kid, he'd take me down into his workshop and let me touch all his carvings and his knife set, and then he'd carve these little animals just for me. That's why I love him; he's so laid-back and relaxed, and he never treated me like a little kid or a freak or anything. He actually asks for and cares about my opinions, which is the total opposite of Mom. Sometimes I wonder why those two got married; personality-wise, they're total opposites.

Alright, back to the carving. When I was six years old, Dad bought me a knife set and a bunch of different sized wood blocks for my birthday. He said that carving was in my blood, and that he saw a lot of potential in me, and if I wanted to, he would give me lessons. Mom, of course, was scandalized ("The very idea of letting a little girl that close to a knife!"), but I gave Dad a big hug, grabbed my carving kit, and raced downstairs to the workshop, calling behind me to hurry up, Daddy, let's get started! We had a lesson almost every night, but there were so many things to remember, like which knife to use depending on what you're carving, the different cuts to make, or how to know when the wood you're using is too soft and mushy for carving. Plus, despite what my dad had told me, whatever "potential" I had seemed to be rapidly proving false. Still, Dad was patient, and after about two weeks of lessons, I'd finally been able to carve something with adequate intelligence – a heart. Not very fancy, but Dad bragged about it like it was an Olympic Medal or something. I've been carving ever since. Over time, I bought some paints and brushes and have started adding color to my work. Dad's really proud, and he says that if I keep carving, I could have a real future in the art world, and that one day I'd become a better carver than he was. I told him that I was nowhere near his level and he'd always be the world's best wood carver to me. Let me tell you, his face almost ripped apart after I said that, his smile was so big. We still have lessons about once a week.

Unlike my dad, I don't make my creations so varied. Every block of wood I've carved goes into three categories: "Mythical Creatures", "Cats", and "Halloween Spirit". That last one, of course, is the largest and grandest of the three. Jack-o-lanterns, witches, werewolves, trick-or-treating kids, spiders, bats…you name it, I've carved it. In fact, the carving I was working on when my mom came in with her train wreck of a costume was one of a cat crouching on top of a garbage can, inspired by the curiosity-induced antics of Calista, of course. When it was done, it would probably go into the Box. Most of my carvings I kept, but just around Halloween time, I'd take the carvings that I don't care about as much, put 'em in a box, and head down to the shopping center to sell them. I get quite a lot of money, too. I'd spent a whole month working on a haunted house about the size of a small dollhouse, complete with old-fashioned furniture, creaky stairs, and ghosts, and a man named Aaron Simmons gave me five-hundred dollars for it. Five-hundred dollars! And in _cash_, too! Can you believe it? Apparently he was some sort of professor at an arts school in Hollisburg, which is about an hour's drive away from my hometown, Briarsville (don't worry – he gave me his business card, and one trip to the Internet proved his legitimacy), and told me that he'd be looking forward to seeing my next work. I have a feeling that my wallet will become quite fat in the near future.

I'd just finished the basic shape of my carving and was starting on the details of the garbage can when both my carving and my knife were snatched out of my hands. "Hey!" I exclaimed, glaring up at Mom. "I was working on that!"

Mom placed my knife and unfinished carving on the dresser behind her and gave me her best disappointed-mother sigh. "Well, you should have been paying attention to me! Honestly, if you put half as much effort into your wardrobe as you do making those ridiculous little statues, than maybe –"

Oh, _no she didn't_.

"_Ridiculous_?!" I gasped. "You don't think Dad's carvings are _ridiculous_ –"

"They're not," Mom snapped. "His carvings are nice and sweet, but the things _you_ make are so…_unnatural_! Those monsters and demons…" She shuddered with disgust.

My temper flared. "Oh, right. So basically, something's unnatural if it's not at all what you like!"

Boy, did _that _make her mad. If I've learned anything about perfect girls, it's that they hate being told that they aren't perfect after all. "Melanie Elizabeth, I just don't understand what's wrong with you! You refuse to get along with the kids in school…"

"That's not my fault!" I interrupted. "They want nothing to do with me!"

Mom continued as if she hadn't even heard me. "You pick fights with Brett…"

"_I _pick fights with _him_? What are you, blind? He jumps at every opportunity to mess with me! Trust me, I'm only hitting in self-defense!"

"You're even buying Ollie into all of this!"

"Hey, I didn't ask him to worship me!"

(By the way, Brett and Ollie are my little brothers. Brett's ten; Ollie's seven. Brett's basically like a typical little brother – plays pranks on you and makes fun of you, but really loves you inside – except that he really _doesn't_ love me at all. He says that I'm a freak and that I should go crawl back into the hole I came out of. Isn't he sweet? And Mom never does anything to stop him. But Ollie, wow, he totally loves me. I don't know why or how, but not only does he think I'm normal, he wants to be just like me! Lately, he's started wearing all black, and last night at dinner, he asked when he can get his hair colored to mach Big Sissy's! Dad and I burst out laughing, but Mom looked really pissed off. Man, I love that boy.)

Mom seemed to have finally had enough. "Well, maybe he wouldn't 'worship you' so much if you didn't seem so new and different! I wish you'd act more like normal girls, instead of like such a…such…a _freak_!"

The furious retort I'd been planning died in my throat, and all I could do was stare at her, disbelief etched into my face. _Not her, too…not my own mother…_

Slowly, the expression on Mom's face turned from angry, to triumphant, to shock. She immediately clapped her hands over her mouth and mumbled, "No…no, Melanie dear, I didn't mean…oh, I'm so –"

"Get out," I said icily. I wasn't mad anymore, surprisingly; I just felt this empty numbness in my chest.

Mom lowered her hands; she looked confused. "But…but I was only…"

"_GET OUT!_" I screamed, pointing at the door. Mom squeaked and scurried out like a mouse. I slowly let my finger drop, staring after her. I wasn't sure if I was feeling angry or sad or what. To be honest, I still felt sort of numb, and maybe a little hungry. I turned around and reached for the book that was resting quietly on my nightstand, but then I felt my knees buckle beneath me and collapsed on my bed, sobbing bitterly.

_She hates me. _My own mother thought I was a freak. A monster. All because I was different than her. It didn't matter what she'd been choking out at the end – she _did _mean it. How long had she felt like this? And what about the others? I knew Brett was on Mom's side for sure, but was all that Dad and Ollie had done just an act? Did they hate me, too? But I hadn't even done anything! All because I was Goth…because I wasn't like them…it wasn't fair!

I wasn't sure how long I had lain there when I heard a soft mew and felt a warm, wet tongue near my ear. I raised my head, wiping away a tear, and found myself face-to-muzzle with Calista. She mewed again and nuzzled my cheek, her golden-yellow eyes seemingly sad. I slowly sat up, pulled her onto my lap, and stroked her gently, no longer sobbing but with tears still trickling down my face. Calista closed her eyes, purring softly.

Now, this isn't one of those animal-lovers stories about how a pet did some super-amazing thing to help their owner, but I think it would be prudent to talk about Calista for a bit. I got her for Christmas two years ago, when she was just a kitten, the runt of the litter. She was really fragile and delicate, and her health wasn't the best. There was a time that the vet thought she wouldn't make it, but I never gave up on her. I gave her cat food with all the nutrients she needed, took good care of her coat, and played with her almost constantly. Maybe we just got lucky, maybe it was all those medicines and nutrient-rich foods, or maybe she just knew that I needed her, I dunno, but whatever it was, Calista ended up pulling through. She's still a little smaller than most cats of her breed, but she's healthier now, and she's got tons of energy. And she's got this really beautiful coat – double-layered, and colored a sort of coppery shade with a little black around her legs and ears. And you know how people say cats are really mean and have a hard time getting close to people? Calista loves me unconditionally, and a simple pet on the head makes her ecstatic. She's really smart, too: when I give her a command, she knows exactly what I want her to do, and she always seems to know just when I need her. I always find myself talking to her, because I honestly think she can understand what I'm saying. She doesn't think of me as a freak at all; he sees me as a leisure partner, the Keeper of the Cat Food, and above all, her best friend. Forget dogs; she is most _definitely _Goth's Best Friend. But I digress…again.

Calista and I stayed like that until about six o'clock. I was getting stiff from staying in one position for so long, but my mind was racing. If my family didn't want me, I didn't want to be a burden to them. I didn't want to stay anywhere I wasn't wanted. Briarsville was not the place for me. I'd go out into the world and find my own destiny. Screw these people – it was a big world out there, and there's got to be somewhere in it for me.

I was jolted out of my thoughts by the sound of my mother's voice. "Melanie?" she called from downstairs. "Melanie, your father and brothers and I are going out to dinner. Are you coming with us?" My anger flared once again, and I didn't answer. "Melanie?" Mom called up again. I pressed my lips together, keeping my gaze out the window. The seconds ticked by; finally, I heard the roar of the garage door as it opened, the faint hum of the van's engine, and then another roar as the garage door was lowered again. Then silence.

I quickly nudged Calista off my lap and stood up, eyes dry and heart pounding. I reached for my backpack, unzipped it, and tipped the contents onto my bed. Before the loose papers even had time to settle, I was on the move again, grabbing things out of drawers and shelves. No conscious thought; I was running on pure adrenaline. A change of clothes, wallet, cell phone, batteries, carving kit, pajamas, toothbrush, deodorant, various hygiene products, first-aid kit, a few books…whatever I deemed essential was tossed into my bag. Once finished packing, I sped down the stairs to get some food.

I'd just wolfed down a frozen TV dinner and was just packing some water bottles and a few sandwiches when I heard a meow behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I spotted Calista standing in the threshold, a curious look on her face. We stared at each other for a moment, and then she leapt up onto the counter, crawled into my backpack, and curled up on top of my pajamas. Frowning, I took her out and put her on the counter, but she climbed back in again, looking up at me imploringly.

I looked at her for a long moment before I finally got it. I was her Mistress and best friend, and here I was, about to leave on a long journey without her. Not if she could help it.

I sighed again. "You sure, Calista? It's not going to be easy, and I don't know how far we'll go before we find somewhere we belong. Plus, it'll get cold and wet, and food's not gonna be easy to come by. I won't blame you if you want to stay here." Calista sat up and nuzzled my hand. I grinned – this trip just got a whole lot more bearable. "Okay, but you can't ride in my backpack. I'll get my tote bag for you to ride in." I spent the next fifteen minutes gathering cans of cat food, kitty litter, her food bowl, a blanket from her basket, and some toys. I put the blanket inside my New York Yankees tote bag, picked up Calista, and set her down inside the bag. She seemed quite pleased with her travel arrangements.

Ten minutes later, I stood outside my house, taking a last look at the place I'd called home for fifteen years. The rush of anger and adrenaline had gone; now I felt a little sad, even nervous, about the challenges ahead. But I couldn't give up now. The thought of escaping the hell I'd lived in, of traveling the world, excited me. I was scared, sure. But I felt like this step I was taking was bigger than it seemed, that Fate had led me to this moment.

_One day, I'll come back, _I promised myself, _once I find where I belong._

"C'mon, Calista," I said softly, turning and walking down the driveway. Our journey had begun; there was no turning back now.

* * *

So, what'd you think? The only way I can get better is through constuctive criticism, you know!


	2. Wow, That Was Some Fall

Special thanks to MagicalGirl23 for her review!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Nightmare Before Christmas.

_

* * *

__It was dark, black as pitch without even the smallest glimmer of light to guide me. It was pretty cold, too; every ragged breath I took slashed at my lungs like knives. The walls of the tunnel seemed to be closing in on me, ready to squash me until I was nothing but a little smear on the hard stone floor. A blast like an explosion echoed in my ear, drowned out by the sound of screams. I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep running, but I had to, I had to make it before it was too late. But what if it was too late, what if he was already dead? And then…and then… _

…and then the screech of the brakes shattered my eardrums and I jolted awake, shivering and sweating. Beside me, Calista hissed from inside her bag. It was only a nightmare…but the funny thing was that I never got nightmares. What most people called a "nightmare", I called a "pleasant dream". But this one was different…my heart was still pounding in fear, and I felt dazed and disoriented. And who was I worried about? Dad? Ollie?

"Hollisburg!" the driver called from the front end of the bus. "Last call for Hollisburg!"

I froze – that was my stop! I picked my backpack up off the floor and slipped one strap over my shoulder, pushing the nightmare back to the farthest corner of my mind to dwell upon later. I grabbed Calista's tote bag, put it over my other shoulder, and joined the throng of people getting off the bus.

Here, let me back up a little bit: I had no idea where I should be going, but Hollisburg would be a good place to start. Maybe I even had enough money to enroll in that arts school. But you remember how I said that Hollisburg is an hour's drive from Briarsville? I didn't even want to _think _about how far it'd take to walk. So I went to the bus station, bought some bus tokens, and waited for the Hollisburg bus to arrive. But the thing is, I almost ended up having to walk after all. You see, besides the rule about no pets on public transportation, the driver was allergic to cats, so he refused to let me on. And there was _no way_ I was leaving Calista behind. So after a lengthy argument (the highlights of which being "Oh, come on!" and "Achoo!"), I was finally let on the bus on the conditions that Calista stayed in the tote bag and that I sat in the very back. I guess I fell asleep sometime after we set off – unlike most people, I sleep whenever I'm in a transportation vehicle. Cars, planes, boats…I even fell asleep in a golf cart once. I'm not sure if this will be a problem in getting my driver's license, but I guess then I could always walk or use my bike.

Back to the present – as soon as I got to the front of the bus, the driver started sneezing uncontrollably. I inched away, disgusted, but did my best to smile politely. "Um, thanks for letting us on, sir. I don't know what –"

It was here that the driver sneezed so hard that the windshield was flecked with…uh, _debris_. I figured now would be a good time to take my leave.

It was pretty dark outside, but not so much that I couldn't see Hollisburg in all its glory. Little shops lined the streets, selling clothes and toys and kitchenware and…a hardware store! Now I could buy wood and paints for my art! Happy, happy, joy, joy. I didn't see a school, but there was a sign pointing away from Main Street that read "James Hubert Blake School for the Arts." Cool. I'll check it out tomorrow. For now, I decided to stick to the main road.

It also looked like there were about nine thousand and forty seven restaurants there; food would not be a problem. Especially since there was an Elizabeth House right by the bus station, which is basically a place where the poor or homeless get to eat a hot meal for free. Good to know if my money ever runs out. I wonder if they carry cat food.

I veered off Main Street and turned onto Cedar Street, rubbing my hands to fight the late-fall chill. This appeared to be the residential part of town – single-family homes took the place of shops, and I spotted a few parks and a rusty playground set. On the other side of the street, several faded wooden benches sat against the sidewalk. A thick forest lay beyond, the trees already lacking most of their leaves. In the spirit of the night, heavily-costumed kids with bulging, brightly-colored bags trooped from house to house, begging for candy in innocent, high-pitched voices. It was sickeningly adorable – exactly the opposite of what Halloween was supposed to be.

Calista was getting fidgety, so I sat down on one of the benches and set her down beside me. She arched her back, licked her paw a couple times, and gave me her "I'm-hungry" mew. I was a little hungry, too, so I pulled out one of the sandwiches along with her food bowl, the can opener, a can of cat food, and a bottle of water. I opened the can and tipped its contents into the bowl, smiling as Calista nuzzled my hand and began daintily eating her dinner. I unwrapped my sandwich and ate it slowly, watching the trick-or-treaters. Had Mom and Dad and the boys gotten back from dinner yet? Did they know I'd run away? I hadn't left a note or anything…were they worried about me? Or was Mom cleaning out my closet, thanking the heavens that she would no longer be tormented by her demon daughter? I scowled and violently chewed the last of my meal. Bastards.

I had packed up the bowl and can opener and was coming back from a trash can when I noticed something was up Calista. Now normally, Calista is the Incarnation of Peace and Love, but now, oh crap, _now _she looked like something out of _The Exorcist_. She was crouched down on the bench, ears flat, eyes narrowed, lips drawn back, and hissing so loud this one guy getting out of his Buick checked his tires for leaks. I'd never seen her look so uptight before. I turned my head and looked for whatever was making her so mad. She was facing the woods, but it didn't look like anything was out there. Could be a squirrel or something, but still…

I took a step towards her, stretching out a hand and murmuring, "C'mon Calista, it's okay, it's okay, nothing to be afraid of, c'mon, c'mon…" But before I could pet her, she sprung off the bench and raced off into the woods. "Calista!" I shouted after her, causing some little kid dressed as a cowboy to stare at me. "Calista, get back here!"

Nothing. No call of acknowledgement. No coppery shape running from the tree line. No nuzzling of the hand, begging for forgiveness. Nada. Zilch. Zero. Cursing under my breath, I grabbed my bags and ran after her.

Okay, let me tell you right now: never, and I mean _never_, run off into the woods at night. No, there's no joke here; _don't do it_. Especially not in Hollis Woods. Bad things happen to good people. Or…semi-good, irritable Gothic people, as the case may be. Here's the thing: I do not get frightened easily. In fact, the only things I've ever really been afraid of in my entire life were the cretins at school and that nightmare on the bus (I had a brief Boogeyman phase when I was five, but I'm not counting that. I mistook him for my dad's old sweater, which, believe me, is far scarier than any bedtime story monster). But oh my God, those woods are freakin' _creepy_. The trees were blocking out all moonlight and lights from the streetlamps, and this really big branch got all tangled up in my hair. Let me tell you, _that _wasn't fun. The next thing was that in my crazed rush to leave the house, I'd forgotten to pack a flashlight. Every two-and-a-half steps, I'd trip over a root or branch or something. My palms and knees were all scraped up, even under my gloves and jeans, and my face was all dirty and I bet my hair looked like a train wreck.

But you know, all those things weren't so bad. I wasn't scared; I was just _really _pissed off. The thing that freaked me out was that it was so quiet, and I mean like _deathly _quiet. Right went I first ran after Calista, I heard all sorts of sounds: there was the crunching of the leaves under my feet, laughing kids, ringing doorbells, a few cars…I could even hear the wind blowing. But as I went further in, I couldn't hear anything. There were no leaves, no wind, no animal calls, and no sign that there was a bustling town at the edge of the forest. It seemed like I was the only living thing on Earth, and that scared me. The dead trees weren't helping either. I wanted to turn back and run, you don't know how much I wanted to do that, but I was not leaving Calista.

"Calista?" I called out, my voice sounding more weak and pitiful than I would've liked. "Calista, come on, where are you?" And then, oh miracle of miracles, I heard a faint "_mrrow_" from farther up ahead. I grinned in relief and ran off in the direction of the sound.

After about two minutes and several more stumbling, I finally spotted her. She was sitting in the middle of this clearing, sitting up perfectly straight, tail wrapped around her legs. Her sudden madness appeared to have passed; she was completely calm. The look on her face was no longer "I'm going to freaking kill you", but more like "Where in the hell have you been for the past half hour?!"

"Calista!" I exclaimed, rushing over to her and scooping her up. She purred loudly. I hugged her for a moment, then held her at arm's length. "Don't you ever run off like that again!" I scolded. "Do you realize how freaked out I was?!" I was trying to look angry, but I knew I was smiling – I was just so relieved that Calista hadn't been eaten by something big and violent, and that we'd be able to get out of this creepy forest. I pulled Calista back in and let her climb onto my shoulder, her favorite perch. She unsheathed her claws, but only to grip my jacket, not enough to hurt. I turned back the way I came, trying to get some sort of sense of direction…

…when I finally got a good look at where I was standing.

The clearing was surrounded by seven huge trees (and by huge, I mean both tall and wide. I'm pretty sure that my entire family, plus me and Calista, could fit in one comfortably) that had already lost their leaves like most of the others. Scratch that – it looked, for some reason, like they'd never had any leaves in the first place. I mean, the ground around me was as bare as the branches. But it wasn't the trees that were strange – each of them had a picture painted on their trunk, facing inward. I glanced around the grove, curious. The one closest to me had a turkey on it…the next one had a four-leafed clover…a heart…a painted egg…a firecracker…a Christmas tree…_they're all holidays_, I realized. Every major holiday that I'd ever been a part of had its picture on one of these trees. But wait…there's one missing…I turned around, and my eyes fell on the picture of the last tree.

A jack-o-lantern. The Halloween tree.

Common sense told me to stay away, and I felt Calista tense up, but I didn't care. Curiosity mounting, I slowly stepped to the tree, looking the picture up and down. The orange paint looked very faded, but the black of the narrowed eyes, triangular nose, and jagged-toothed grin stood out sharply against they gray-brown bark. I cocked my head and leaned in, examining it more closely. Hmm…it looked like the nose was sticking out a little bit. I reached out and found that it _was _sticking out – I could grip the nose between my thumb and forefinger. But why was it sticking out like that? The proverbial wheels in my head spinning, I cautiously banged on the normal part of the tree. _Thump, thump_. I lowered my hand and banged the jack-o-lantern. _Thump-ah, thump-ah_. It was hollow!

I looked back at the nose. "So…is this a door?" I said out loud, my voice no more than a whisper. Calista meowed irritably in response; she didn't look quite so calm anymore. I paid her no more attention. Heart pounding, I gripped the nose again and carefully turned it clockwise. I stepped back as the jack-o-lantern swung away from the tree with a loud creak, revealing a black, gaping hole in the trunk. It _was _a door! But why would someone make a pumpkin-shaped door in a giant tree in the middle of the woods? I returned to the tree, standing right in front of the hole. I stretched out my arm, only to jerk my hand back immediately. The air was freezing, much colder than it was outside. I blew warm air into my hands for a moment before reaching out once more. I stretched my arm out as far as it would go, but I couldn't feel the back of the tree.

My curiosity was extinguished – now I just felt nervous. There was something about this door, all these doors (surely the other six pictures were doors as well, if this one was), that made me suspicious. I mean, you don't just end up finding holiday-themed doors inside random trees, right? "Maybe we should get out of here, Calista," I said softly. I turned to leave, but I'd only gone two steps before I heard a roar of wind and felt a sharp tug at my clothes. My heart skipped a beat – I was being pulled back! Panicked, I struggled to move forward, but no matter how fast my feet went, I was still dragged towards the hole, slowly, inexorably, until…

…until I lost balance, teetered for a moment, and then plummeted through the hole. I let out a scream, Calista dug her claws into my shoulder, but it was too late, we were already falling, down, down into the frigid blackness…

* * *

I suppose I blacked out, either while falling or after I'd hit the ground. It could've only been a few seconds, or a few hours. When I came to, my head was pounding, and my light-headedness kept my eyes shut. I wondered for a second if I was dead, but then I heard a loud buzzing sound. It took me a moment to realize that the sound was actually a bunch of voices talking at the same time:

"What in the world is it?"

"Eugh, it's _hideous_!"

"Maybe a spell-caster?"

"A demon?"

"Some sort of furless werewolf?"

"Don't be ridiculous, you sack of frogspawn! All werewolves have fur!"

"Wait! I know what that is! It's a _human_!"

"What?! A human? But that's impossible!"

"I've never seen a human before…I thought they'd be taller than that."

"Where did it come from?"

"Jack found it outside of the town gates, along with a cat. Some sort of familiar, maybe?"

"It's all rather strange, isn't it? A human has never come to Halloween Town before…"

"Shh! I think it's waking up!"

In fact, I had decided this would be a good time to return to full consciousness; the conversation was taking a turn for the strange, and I had absolutely no idea what was going on. I slowly shook my head and opened my eyes. My vision blurred for a moment, but then everything became clear.

I mean that literally, of course, because I just could not believe what I was seeing. It looked like, and I know this sounds impossible, but I was surrounded by _monsters_!

There were about twenty or thirty strange-looking creatures surrounding me, staring at me with varying types of emotion, from delight to suspicion and everything in between. Every monster I'd ever heard of was there – a sharp-toothed werewolf with black fur and a yellow-orange suit, a slender, one-eyed mummy, a tiny green gargoyle propped up on enormous wings, _four _vampires of various heights and widths, two witches (one of them tall and warty, the other short and green-skinned), a greasy-haired monster with four live snakes attached to each hand, another squat monster with strands of red-and-black-striped hair that stuck straight up, a devil, a walking fishy thing, and lots, and I mean _lots _of zombies. There was a zombie clown riding on a unicycle, a big guy in overalls with a bloodied ax sticking out of his head, a whole corpse family (skinny dad, heavyweight mom and kid), and dozens more. Ghosts flew about overhead, cackling eerily.

Now under normal circumstances, I would have assumed that I had died and gone to some sort of Goth heaven – I _love _this sort of stuff. But between the forest and the doors and now this, I figured that I was now as far from normal as possible. "What the hell?" I whispered, eyes wide. And then louder: "WHAT THE HELL?!" I scrambled to my feet, looking from left to right and feeling panicked. You know how people do double-takes when they're surprised? I must've done a freaking fifteen-take. "Y-you guys are m-m-monsters!" I stammered, pointing a shaking finger at the group.

"Well, of course!" the vampires said together, spreading out their arms and making their cloaks look like bat wings.

"Why so surprised?" the short witch asked. "Haven't you ever seen a witch before?"

"Or a wolf-man?" added the werewolf.

"Or a demon?"

"Or the living dead?"

I shook my head and began wringing my hands, my classic nervous gesture. "N-no…no, not in person. We, uh, we don't have those where I live."

"You don't?" the mummy kid asked, scratching his bandaged head.

The overweight zombie kid stepped closer to me. "Where's that?"

"Um, well, the town I live in is called Briarsville –"

"Briarsville?" the devil repeated, sounding confused. "Is that near Halloween Town?"

"Uh, no, I really don't – wait, Halloween Town? Where's that?" And what sort of name is that, anyway? Unfortunately, I had a pretty good idea of the answers…

The devil laughed. "_Where_? Oh, my dear whatever-you-are, you're _in _it!"

"We live in Halloween Town!" the fish-creature added.

"Oh…that's what I thought," I muttered, taking a look around.

Coinciding with the holiday from which it got its name, everything in Halloween town is colored one of three hues: black, gray, or orange. Stone buildings of various sizes and shapes had been haphazardly built around what appeared to be the town square. Two buildings off in the distance were larger than the others, each sporting a large tower – one with a metal sphere at the top, the other attached to the main structure by only a few flimsy planks of wood (this building was up on a hill, and appeared to be the largest of the bunch). A stone bridge led off from the square to the other parts of town. The streets were cobblestoned unevenly, and the sky above seemed to be a darker than normal, even with the full moon beginning to rise in the sky. The square itself had a large fountain in the center, the water glowing green creepily. Pumpkins, both plain and carved, were scattered every few feet. Behind me, a giant wooden guillotine towered over us, with a wicker basket at its base (my backpack and tote bag were right next to said basket).

Whoa…this is one weird place. Looks like almost every scary thing someone could think of was right – OH. MY. GOD.

I had been sitting up when I came to, and it suddenly dawned on me what I'd been leaning on.

I looked back at the group of monsters. "Okay, whose bright idea was it to prop me up against a _guillotine_?"

Everyone looked over at the guy with the axe in his head. "Sorr-ee," he said dully.

"Yeah, you'd _better _be," I grumbled. Holy crap, this was strange. I was having a conversation with a dead guy, for crying out loud! "Hey, wait a sec…where's Calista?!" I shouted, feeling my fear resurface.

"Who?" the tall witch asked.

"My cat! Where is she? Wasn't she with me when you guys found me?"

"Why, yes," one of the vampires replied. "She was very tense, so the Mayor thought he'd take her home and calm her down a little."

I froze. "Uh…well, that's a nice thought, but, um…oh, boy, this is bad…"

"Why?" the zombie-mom asked. "Is she not a nice cat?"

"Oh, no, no, no!" I assured her. "No, she's very sweet. But you see, she has a…a _thing_ with strangers, and –"

"_YEEEEOOOOOOW!_"

Oh, damn it, not again.

There were some shocked noises and a few screams from the back, and then the crowd parted and I spotted a brown blur racing towards me. "Calista!" I called, relieved. I knelt down and spread open my arms, and Calista leapt into my hug, quivering.

"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!" a voice called pitifully. "Come back, please!"

I looked up to see the crowd spreading farther apart, and a strange-looking guy scurried through the opening. He was short, probably about half my height, but his top hat was almost as tall as he was. He was wearing a fancy suit with a festive orange ribbon on his lapel bearing the word, "Mayor." His face was sickly pale, his lips black, and there were several scratches across his face. Oops.

The Mayor rushed over to me, panting heavily. "I…I don't know what happened," he whined. "One minute she was sitting in my lap, and the next she scratched me and ran away!"

I stood up and smiled weakly. "Yeah, I'm sorry 'bout that. Um…you didn't happen to pull her tail, did you?"

The Mayor wrung his hands. "Maybe a little," he admitted. "Her tail looked so soft, so I pet it and –" Calista hissed loudly, eyes narrowed. Mayor gasped and inched backwards. He suddenly glanced up at me and gasped. "Wait! You're the human who passed out in the graveyard, right?"

I shrugged. "Uh, yeah, I guess. I mean, I wasn't really conscious, so I don't know where exactly – HOLY CRAP!" What the hell? His head just turned around, and there was a face on the other side! This one had a very healthy coloring and a big grin.

"You're finally awake! That's wonderful news!" he exclaimed. He shook my free hand enthusiastically. "Welcome to Halloween Town! Did you know that you're the first human to ever visit?"

I laughed nervously. "I can't imagine why…hey, what're you – hey, whoa, whoa! Where are we going?" The Mayor had latched onto my wrist and was dragging me away from the crowd of monsters.

"To Dr. Finklestein's laboratory!" he answered, as if I'd understand. "Jack's over there now, discussing the effects for tonight's celebration!"

"Uh, who's Jack?"

The Mayor laughed. "Why, Jack Skellington, the Pumpkin King, of course!" Of course. I don't know _how _I could've not known. "He's the one who found you, you know, and he told me to let him know the minute you woke up!"

"Okay…so, what kind of monster is he?"

The Mayor's Botox-like grin widened even further. "The _terrifying _kind! He's the scariest out of all of us, and he's frightened _millions _of your kind! That's why he's the Pumpkin King!"

My head was spinning with the effort of absorbing all this. "Fantastic," I muttered. Why do I have a bad feeling about this?

* * *

Yes, I know, I'm terrible. Don't worry, you'll get your regular dose of Jack Skellington soon. Please review!


	3. The Pumpkin King and the Rag Doll

Hey, guys. This chapter's finally up, and not even I thought it'd make it. To be honest, I'd almost lost interest in this story, but the Universe gave me some tell-tale signs to keep going with this. NBC T-shirts, DVD ads on TV, Christmas music…well, you get the idea. So here it is: chapter 3 of Fortune Favors the Brave!

**Oh, and by the way: for the sake of one of the jokes, this story takes place in 2009 at the earliest. So for those of you thinking to e-mail me about incorrect calendar events, you'll just end up looking really stupid.**

Disclaimer: I do not own the Nightmare Before Christmas. Tim Burton is a genius.

* * *

Oh, boy…someone call the record books, _this _is definitely the strangest thing to happen since fifty million people got Rick Rolled at last year's Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. And believe me, that's saying something.

I mean, here I am in a holiday-based town inhabited by monsters who've never seen a human before, being led off by the literally-bipolar elected official to meet the scariest monster in history, and all I had to do was get lost in the woods and fall through a portal inside a tree with a picture of a pumpkin on it.

…what the f***?

Okay, okay, calm down, Mel…this isn't so bad. Hey, you _love _this stuff! You and Calista are both all right, the monsters seem pretty friendly, and maybe this Pumpkin King dude, Jack or whatever his name is, can get you back to the real world. _But what kind of monster is he? The Mayor said he was more frightening than any of them…aw, whatever! He won't scare me; I'm not afraid of anything._

"Here we are!" the Mayor announced cheerfully. "This is Dr. Finklestein's laboratory!"

I looked up – we were passing through a pair of wrought-iron gates that led to one of the tall buildings I'd seen earlier, the one with the big metal sphere at the top of a tower. The building was made entirely of the same metal, with a small flight of steps leading up to an enormous wooden door. The Mayor dragged me up the aforementioned steps before finally letting go. I put Calista down and massaged my wrist; that was some grip. And here I thought all politicians were sticky-fingered. Well, this one's definitely two-faced! Ha, ha, ha…ahem…sorry, couldn't help it.

The Mayor cleared his throat, adjusted the live spider he used for a tie (ewww…), and briskly knocked on the door. "Jack! Dr. Finklestein! I've got the human with me!" He grabbed onto my wrist again.

I yanked my arm out of his grasp and glared at him. "Okay, if you grab my wrist again, I seriously cannot be held responsible for my actions." Calista added a hiss, and the Mayor's head rotated to show his frightened face.

The door opened with a creak, and the Mayor's happy face snapped back. "Ah, Doctor! I'm here looking for J – oh, Sally! What a pleasant surprise!"

I looked away from the Mayor and my eyes fell on the figure standing in the doorway. It was a young woman with long red hair and big dark brown eyes. She was about a head taller than I was, and she had a very slender build. Her skin was blue (another living dead, I guess), and large chunks of it appeared to be sewn together. Her dress looked like it had been sewn from many different-colored rags. There was a nervous smile on her face, and she was unconfidently clutching one hand in the other.

We looked at each other for a moment, and then I cleared my throat. "Lemme guess: dead tissue taken from various corpses, sewn together by a mad scientist, and reanimated using controlled bolts of lightning, right?"

Her eyes widened. "Uh, yes. Yes, actually, how did you know?"

I shrugged. "Oh, you know…shot in the dark."

Yea, and the Lord raised his hand and said, "LET THERE BE A PARODY!"

"Um, anyway, my name's Melanie. Nice to meet you." I held out my hand.

"It's nice to meet you, too, Melanie. I'm Sally, a creation of Doctor Finklestein." She tentatively shook my hand.

_Huh…did she sound bitter about that last part, or was I imagining that?_

Calista mewed, probably to let someone know that she was still there. Sally looked down at her and gasped in delight. "Oh, is this your cat? She's beautiful!"

"Oh, yeah, she's mine…you can hold her if you want." I picked her up and held her out to Sally. "But be careful and don't pull her tail – if she doesn't know you well, it could get messy. Right, Mayor?" The Mayor's sad face swiveled back for a brief second.

Sally gingerly took Calista and stroked her slowly, smiling. Calista closed her eyes and purred loudly. I whistled admiringly. "Wow, she usually only purrs like that for me…she must really like you."

Sally looked ecstatic. "You think so?"

The Mayor cleared his throat and stepped between us. "I'm terribly sorry, Sally, but is Jack still here?"

Sally nodded. "Oh, yes. He's helping the Doctor with one of his experiments – please, come in." She stepped back and ushered us inside. We appeared to be in some sort of front hall or lobby or something. There was nothing in here, no furniture or anything, just a staircase leading off to the next floor. I could see a few doors up there, all wooden and with a crossbeam to prevent intruders. There were another couple doors on the other side of the hall, these without crossbeams.

Sally led us through one of the doors into what was apparently a kitchen, and then up another flight of stairs to another door (jeez, who was their architect?). "They're right in there," she told us, gesturing with her free hand. She stepped forward and knocked softly. "Enter," an irritable-sounding voice said from inside. Sally pushed open the door and led us inside.

No doubt about it – this was a mad scientist's laboratory all right. The room was large and poorly-lit, but filled with lab equipment and experimental junk. There were several tables piled with blueprints, beakers, Bunsen burners, you name it. A larger, steel table was placed in the middle of the room, its surface covered in rusty machine parts, with two huge…are those _guns_? Man, those look like something out of a sci-fi movie! Maybe they shoot fire or lightning or make a force field or something…um, anyway, there was a smaller steel surface in the corner, held at an angle, with two leather straps near the top and bottom. It looked like the table Frankenstein had been reborn on; maybe it was for Sally. At the end of the room, a giant book the size of a small elephant was propped against the wall. A small figure in a wheelchair was facing it, flipping one of the pages with some difficulty and grunting with the effort.

The Mayor's grin widened, if possible, even further as he scurried forward. "Doctor Finklestein! Oh, Doctor Finklestein!"

"Hmm?" The page slipped back into place, and there was a sudden whirring as the wheelchair spun around, revealing its occupant. It was a little man, shriveled and pale. He was wearing sunglasses, and even from this distance, I could see lines around his eyes from squinting (well, he shouldn't be wearing sunglasses in the dark). His mouth jutted out from his face like a duck's bill, and his lips were a dull red. He was completely bald, but what looked like several bolts seemed to be screwed into his head (I swear, if Mary Shelley were still alive, she'd definitely sue somebody). His lab coat fell to just below his knees, and he wore elbow-length black rubber gloves. Let me tell you, this guy didn't look too pleasant.

"Oh, it's you, Mayor," he said dismissively. He pushed a lever on his chair, and it swung back to face the giant book. "Don't touch anything, I'm working on a new experiment."

Mayor went began walking towards him, with Sally and me following. "Oh, don't worry," he assured, "we won't go near – whoopsie!" He had crashed into the table and knocked a machine part to the ground, smashing it to pieces.

The wheelchair spun around again, showing Dr. Finklestein's furious face. "You incompetent fool! Now my experiment is ruined!"

The Mayor's head spun around yet again. "Oh, dear, I'm so sorry, I –"

"Sorry?!" the doctor snarled. " 'Sorry' won't fix that Double Defilibrator – and _you_!" he said suddenly, pointing a trembling finger at Sally, who jumped and gasped. "Put that animal down before you catch its disease!" Calista's fur stood on end, and her eyes narrowed.

I took a step towards the _good _doctor, my temper flaring yet again. "Hey! Don't you talk about my cat like that, gramps! She's not disease-ridden – but considering that fancy chair o' yours, _someone _may be sick around here…"

Don't look at me like that. I've got nothing against the disabled, provided that they don't mess with me or Calista.

"Bite your tongue, you wretched girl!" the doctor spat. "You've no right talking to an old man that way!"

I clenched my fists, anger coursing through my veins. "Oh, is that what you are? You look more like some sort of crippled cockroach!"

The doctor growled threateningly and pushed his wheelchair forward, but the Mayor stepped between us. "People, please! Let's not fight on Halloween!" He turned to Dr. Finklestein. "All we want is to find Jack! He told me to bring the human to him as soon as she woke up!"

"Human, eh?" Dr. Finklestein said thoughtfully, looking at me. I glared back at him. "Hmm…well, he's not here. I needed some salamander blood for my _now ruined _experiment –" The Mayor winced. "– and he went to get some. Now kindly leave before you break something else. Sally, show them to the door." He turned his chair back around.

"Come on," Sally whispered, putting a hand on my shoulder. I stood there for a moment, trying to think of a witty parting insult, but I drew blank (hey, what do you expect? This is real life, not a scripted movie). Cursing under my breath, I followed Sally and the Mayor out of the room.

I kept silent until we reached the bottom of the steps. I was still really pissed, but I figured an apology might be in order. Not for the doctor – I don't care how he feels about me – but poor Sally looks really upset, and she's one of the first people to treat me like a normal human being (even though a human is apparently as abnormal as you can get around here). "Hey, uh, listen, Sally…I'm sorry for causing trouble. I just wasn't gonna let get away with –"

"No, Melanie, don't worry about that," Sally interrupted. "He's rude to everyone. But you know," she added thoughtfully, "he may be rude, but he's smart and well-respected. No one's ever fought back before. I think you impressed him." She handed me back Calista.

"You don't say." I took Calista and let her rest on my shoulder. "Well, whatever. So, when do you think –?"

There was suddenly a loud slam from beyond the kitchen door. "Hello?" a voice called out. "Doctor? I've got the salamander blood…"

The Mayor gasped, and his happy face swiveled back. "Oh, it's Jack!" He pushed open the door and scampered into the front hall. Sally and I exchanged glances (hers was amused; mine was slightly 'WTF?' –ish) and followed him.

Well, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to expect, but I doubt it was this guy.

Turns out the Pumpkin King wasn't a Pumpkin after all; he was a skeleton (of course! That makes perfect sense!). He was definitely the tallest guy I'd seen in both this world and the real world – he was bent nearly double as he stepped through the door. He was wearing a black pinstripe suit, and like the Mayor, he had an odd choice in ties; it looked like a dead bat. His arms, legs, and fingers were abnormally long; he reminded me vaguely of a spider. His eye sockets, too, looked larger than normal, giving him a look of constant surprise. _He doesn't look so scary._

"Jack!" the Mayor called up excitedly. "There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere!"

Everywhere? Please, we were in two rooms of one building in this whole town. Talk about dramatic.

The skeleton's mouth turned up in some sort of undead smile. "Hello, Mayor, Sally, and – oh!" His skeletal grin widened as he looked at me (how can he see with no eyes?). "You're finally awake! That's wonderful!" He bowed low, waving his hands with a flourish. "I am Jack Skellington, the Pumpkin King of Halloween Town, and I'm the one who found you in the cemetery. And you are…?"

I smiled. For the scariest monster in Halloween Town, he seems pretty eager to make friends. "I'm Melanie Carter, and this is my cat, Calista." Calista mewed in response to her name. "It's nice to meet you," I added, extending my hand.

Jack shook my hand heartily. "Melanie…what a nice name!" I grinned broadly; I'm a sucker for sweet talk. "And believe me, the pleasure is all mine." His smile turned sheepish. "Oh, dear…this is very strange. You see, I've seen plenty of humans before, but I've never actually _met _one – only scared them!"

"Believe me, Your Highness, this can't possibly be as weird for you as it is for me!" I pointed out, chuckling.

Jack laughed – a high-pitched cackle that sent chills down my spine. I guess he really is scary. "That's right, you don't have ghosts and ghouls in your world! You must be shocked!" I nodded weakly. "Oh, by the way," he added, "you can call me Jack. Everyone does."

"All right, Jack, then," I replied, nodding. Calista meowed softly and flicked her tail against my shoulder blades. I frowned and picked her up off my shoulder, but in doing so, I got a good look at Sally. She had retreated back against the wall and was looking down at her clasped hands, her cheeks the very palest shade of pink. I raised an eyebrow. _What's up with her?_

"Anyway, Melanie," Jack was saying, "how did you get here from your world? Do you remember anything before you passed out?"

I nodded slowly. "Yeah, but it sure was strange…Calista here ran off in the woods, and I ran after her, and…well, I ended up in this grove of weird trees, and I fell through the jack-o-lantern door –"

"Door?" Jack repeated, frowning. "What door?"

I raised my eyebrow even higher. "The door. The one from my world to yours. You really can't miss it; it's inside a giant tree and covered up with a picture of a jack-o-lantern…"

Jack looked helpless. "I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about. Whenever I go to your world, I go through the tomb in the graveyard."

My head was spinning. "You mean you really don't know anything about it? But I swear…the _tomb_? What do you – oh, never mind. Something tells me that I don't wanna know."

I jumped in surprise at a loud dinging sound. The Mayor pulled an oversized pocket watch out of his coat pocket, glanced at it, and his head turned once again. "Oh, my! Jack, look at the time!" He waved the watch in Jack's face – or rather, as high up as his stubby little arms could reach. "We've got to start getting ready for the celebration!"

I blinked. "Celebration?"

"Every year on Halloween, we hold a big party in honor of all things horrifying and spooky," Jack explained, putting on a scary sneer and waving his hands. "It's the most important event of the year, and it's really quite fantastic…wait! I know!" he added suddenly, drawing himself up to his full height. "Why don't you stay and watch?"

I smiled weakly. "Oh, no, I really should be getting back home…where things make sense…" Sort of. "Anyway, I'm not exactly a party person."

"Oh, but it will be wonderful!" Jack pleaded, looking at me imploringly. "The whole town decorated, the citizens at their spookiest, and there'll be singing and dancing and it'll be so much fun!" _Is it just me, or do his words sound a little forced?_ "I just know you'll love it…that is, if you don't mind being frightened out of your wits."

I laughed. "Oh, please. Nothing scares me." _Nothing but that creepy laugh of yours. _

Jack cocked his skull, eye sockets wide. "Nothing at all?"

"Nope."

He smirked. "I don't believe you. Why don't you prove it to me at the celebration?"

"Because I…uh…" I sighed. "Okay, okay, you got me. I'll be there."

"Wonderful!" Jack exclaimed. "We've never had an audience before…oh, but where should you stay until then?" He began pacing, tapping one finger against his cheek. "I want it to be a surprise, and the celebration takes up the whole town…it looks like you'll have to wait at the edge of town. But I'm sure you don't know your way around…I'd escort you myself, but I'm just too busy…Sally, can you do it?"

Sally shook her head, keeping her gaze on her hands. "I don't think so. The Doctor will be wanting his dinner soon, after all."

"Hmm, that's true," Jack agreed. "Let's see…who to take you… I know!" He slapped his hand against his leg twice and looked expectantly at the open door.

I looked at him oddly. "Um, how was that going t – OHMYGODWHATTHEHELLISTHAT?!" I yelped, and Calista's ears flattened. Some sort of white floating thing just zoomed through the door!

"That's Zero," Jack explained patiently. "He's my dog."

"Your…dog?" I repeated, inching away from the floating thing, now floating near me. Now that he mentioned it, it did sort of look like a ghost dog; it had long ears, undulating in the slight breeze, and a glowing red-orange nose at the end of a long snout. It had no tail or legs; it sort of looked like a dog in an oversized doggy sweater.

The ghost dog, Zero, floated over to me and sniffed my hair. His black eyes lit up and he barked a few times, and then did a mid-air back flip and licked my cheek. It felt really weird, kind of cold and light and fluid-like, but in a nice way.

"Aw, he likes you!" Jack said delightedly. "And look; he likes Calista, too!" Zero had descended to Calista's level, sniffed behind her cheek (despite her warning hiss), and barked happily. Calista looked at him suspiciously for a moment, then reached out and batted his nose with her paw, meowing shock as her paw went right through. Zero twitched his nose, grinned broadly, and nuzzled her. Calista's ears straightened as she purred softly.

"Yeah…huh, she doesn't usually like dogs…" I shrugged. "I guess it's cause he's a ghost. So, what's he gonna do?"

"He'll lead you to the edge of Halloween Town, beyond the graveyard," Jack told me. "You can wait there while we finish setting up, and at midnight, you can come back and enjoy the show!"

"Right, okay," I muttered. "Well, I guess I'll see you there. Nice meeting you, everybody." The others waved as I followed Zero out the door.

Zero led me back to the town square, past the guillotine, and through a pair of tall gates. I took a moment to glance around – there was a large, curving hill with some sort of spiral-shaped landmass beneath the very edge, and surrounding it were hundreds, no, _thousands _of graves. I wanted to check it out, but Zero was already speeding off, and I had to jog just to keep him in my sights.

That crazy dog finally stopped near the entrance to a forest. Tall, jet-black trees short up into the air and were curved slightly at the top, forming a sort of tunnel. Zero barked happily, did another back flip, and flew off back towards Halloween Town. I glanced through the entrance and spotted a wide tree stump in the shadows. I went over and gratefully sat down, placing Calista down beside me and stretching my sore muscles. This town was huge, and from the way Jack was going on back there, it threw an even huger party.

Still, for all his big talk, he didn't sound as excited as his dialogue suggested. What's up with that? I mean, isn't the scariest monster in the world supposed to be the most excited about Halloween?

I checked my watch – it was nine-thirty. Time flies when you're screwing with alternate worlds, I guess. I set the alarm for midnight and settled down to wait.

* * *

For those of you who didn't see the Macy's Parade, the Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends float was getting ready to do a song about friendship when Rick Astley pops out of no where and starts singing the famous "Never Gonna Give You Up". The video's on Youtube. For those who _did _see it, raise your hand if you laughed.

My updates may be a little more frequent from now on, as I won't have to think up too much original material.


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